


The Romancing of the Bard

by vvitchering (Witchering)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Courting Rituals, Geralt Is More Monstery AU, Getting Together, M/M, Nesting, feral geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchering/pseuds/vvitchering
Summary: A "Feral Geralt" AU. Geralt invites Jaskier to spend the winter at Kaer Morhen, but begins acting strangely upon arrival. Jaskier has a lot to learn about witcher courting rituals.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 97
Kudos: 1915
Collections: wiedźmin





	The Romancing of the Bard

**Author's Note:**

> I've been talking about a more monstrous Geralt concept on twitter for a while and apparently that's become my brand. He's physically larger, has predator teeth and claws, and acts a bit less human than canon Geralt. Just seemed logical that being exposed to extra mutations would have made him even less outwardly human than the rest of the witchers, as well as embedding a few beast-like instincts in his brain. 
> 
> As always, no beta, we die like witchers.

Jaskier has been to many places and seen many things in his years, some more extraordinary than others. The simple structure in front of him doesn’t quite fall into the category of extraordinary based simply on its appearance. It’s large, sprawling almost, and made up entirely of stolen furs, bedspreads, old moth eaten pillows, and a few pieces of clothing. There might even be a tapestry in there somewhere, although Jaskier can’t be sure, and he isn’t so cruel as to tear the pile apart to investigate. Not after all the time and hard work Geralt put into constructing it. 

They’ve been at Kaer Morhen for several weeks and Jaskier finally feels like he’s settling in. It was odd at first, the idea of wintering with Geralt and his family in their secretive mountain fortress. Odd, but not unpleasant sounding, and Jaskier hasn’t regretted his decision for a moment. Well. Perhaps a moment. When they had first arrived and the huge castle doors were opened to them and Jaskier immediately had to leap to the side to avoid the assault of the two burly witchers waiting for them, he had possibly had some doubts. He knows from his travels with Geralt that witchers, while not the monsters humanity has made them out to be, are a little on the beastial side when it comes to their culture and mannerisms. 

Geralt, big and sturdy though he is, was immediately knocked off his feet and thrown to the ground by the two unknown witchers. They were smaller than Geralt and their hands lacked claws, but they clearly had strength on par with his, and they easily overwhelmed him. Jaskier had almost panicked, unused to seeing anything overpower Geralt, but Vesemir had appeared and given Jaskier a quick rundown of witcher familial rituals while Geralt and his brothers bit and scratched at each other from their heap in the entrance way. 

Thankfully, that particular ritual was reserved for meetings after being seperated for a long period of time, so Jaskier did not have to worry about scurrying away from witcher brawls for the remainder of their stay. But it did not mean the end of observing strange witcher behavior. Which brings him to now, staring down a pile of assorted bedding and wondering how he is going to extract his favorite items of clothing from the mass without disturbing it too much. As he examines the structure more closely, he is struck by the thought that it reminds him very much of a magpie nest. There’s a certain order to the chaos; a depression in the middle, exactly Geralt sized, surrounded by dots of their combined personal effects. Geralt’s cloak, Jaskier’s prized purple doublet, both of their bedrolls plus the wool blanket Jaskier uses on cold nights spent outdoors, he finds he recognizes almost everything. 

The door to their room squeaks open, then shut again. That would be Geralt, back from retrieving breakfast for the two of them. 

“I was actually planning to wear some of my clothes while we’re here but I see you’ve repurposed them as building material.”

Geralt doesn’t answer, but he does dump a plate loaded with hearty food into Jaskier’s hands so Jaskier thinks he can come to forgive him in time. 

Geralt is dressed down today, his leathers clean and put away for the season. He’s wearing a simple cotton tunic and the fashionable black high waisted pants Jaskier is amazed Geralt even owns. His hair is still damp from his morning bath and tied half up. He looks rested and bright eyed for the first time in recent memory and Jaskier smiles at the sight. The Path isn’t kind to any witcher, Jaskier knows, but it's especially cruel to Geralt, who cannot hide what he is from anyone as his brothers sometimes can. His unnaturally tall stature makes him taller than even the tallest humans, despite all the slouching he does to minimize it. A hooded cloak will cover his silvery hair and shadow his golden eyes, but even filed down Geralt’s claws are distinct and hard to hide and his fangs peek through his lips occasionally when he speaks. 

Geralt has told him about the trials. About the mutations and about how his unique resilience led him to become the first witcher to survive being given more than the usual amount. He was bigger, stronger, and faster than his brethren which made him an exceptional witcher but also made it nearly impossible for him to coexist peacefully with humans. Jaskier doesn’t know how long Geralt had been alone before they met in that tavern in Posada and he doesn’t care to find out. The answer would always be “too long”. 

“What are you staring at?” Geralt finally asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Just you. You look happy. It’s a good look.” Jaskier responds.

Geralt grumbles, but his ears pinken endearingly with embarrassment. Jaskier will never understand how people can look at Geralt and see a monster deserving of fear and hatred. 

“I’ll still want my good doublet back. What exactly have you built here, anyway?” Jaskier asks, gesturing at the massive pile with his half eaten biscuit. 

Geralt’s ears somehow get even pinker. Interesting. 

“I was inspecting it earlier and it reminds me a bit of a bird’s nest.” 

“It’s nothing to do with birds,” Geralt almost sounds...insulted? “But ‘nest’ might be a good way to describe it.”

“That’s surprisingly domestic of you. Is this another one of your mystery shrouded witcher rituals? What’s it for?”

Geralt looks at him like he’s incredibly stupid. 

“For  _ sleeping,  _ Jaskier, what the hell else would it be for?”

“Oh, of course, obviously. My education was extensive in all subjects but I was ill the day they covered Cagey Witcher Behaviors, clearly.” 

Geralt eyes him strangely for a few moments before he returns to his own breakfast. Jaskier sighs dramatically in fake exasperation, which makes the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in a tiny smile at his antics. 

“Fine, I’ll find something else to wear. It would be a shame to demolish such an inspired piece of architecture. But you’ve used both the bed rolls as well. Where am I supposed to sleep now, hmm? Jaskier asks.

Geralt’s blush has spread to his neck now, good gods. There’s some subtlety Jaskier is missing about this nesting business, he’s sure of it, but Geralt seems to be in no hurry to explain. 

“It’s meant for both of us. To sleep in. Together. If that’s acceptable to you. It’s cold here at night,” Geralt mumbles, pointedly avoiding eye contact, “We’ve shared before.”

And that’s true. They have. When coin was short and the only inn that would not turn Geralt away had only single rooms available, they would pile together on the tiny frame and keep each other warm through the night. Entirely platonically. Just travel companions sharing a bit of friendly body heat. Now, Jaskier wonders at the easy way Geralt always accepted those accommodations, despite giving the impression he’d rather die than suffer physical contact with others. Jaskier would always wake on those mornings with Geralt plastered to his back, an arm or a leg tossed over him, like he was a beloved stuffed toy. It made complicated feelings stir in the back of his mind. 

Geralt is looking at him now, expression slightly pinched, like he’s waiting for Jaskier to laugh and tell him he’ll find somewhere distinctly less nest-like and witcher infested to sleep, thank you very much.

He smiles gently at an increasingly uncomfortable looking Geralt. 

“Alright then. Nest bed it is.”


End file.
